


Deconstruction

by certifiedgeek



Series: Doctor Who: Short Stories by CertifiedGeek [2]
Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (1963), Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Angst, Emotional, Episode: s04e06 The Doctor's Daughter, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Pain, Post-Episode: s04e06 The Doctor's Daughter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-15
Updated: 2018-02-15
Packaged: 2019-03-19 05:01:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,223
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13697397
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/certifiedgeek/pseuds/certifiedgeek
Summary: After Jenny's death the Doctor runs from trouble, but trouble, and heartbreak, have a way of finding him.





	Deconstruction

As the TARDIS doors clicked shut sealing off a London street and the retreating figure of Martha Jones, Donna Noble allowed herself a silent moment of contemplation. Leaning against the TARDIS console she watched the rounded shoulders of the Doctor and his slow, laboured efforts to dematerialize the ship. In the glow of the rotator column, shadows slipped over his dark eyes turning his wan features into a skull-like echo of himself. His blue suit, crumpled from hours spent cradling the body of his daughter, shed particles of dust as he shoved his hands into his trouser pockets and leant back against a coral beam. Donna took up residence beside him, her right shoulder brushing against his left, her hand snaking around his forearm. As the time machine groaned into flight, the Doctor inhaled an unsteady breath and leaned against his companion, resting in the safety of her friendship.

If Donna had to choose a single word to describe the Doctor in the following days, it would have been ‘stoic’. Hours of silence were broken by rambling monologues, the focus and meaning of which were lost in babbling that Donna did not pretend to understand. They flew from danger, spinning the vessel into nebula filled with spatial anomalies, landing in the biggest theme park on New New New Earth. With every landfall he held Donna’s hand with more pressure than before, keeping her close and never out of sight. To the unseasoned eye they were a carefree couple, enjoying the delights of new worlds. To his companion running from trouble was out of character, and it worried her. But trouble would always find him, even in the most beautiful of places. 

At the Prince Regent’s invitation the travellers had taken tea with the queen of Pairidaēza. Sitting in the Zen garden, overlooking the great chasm, the world’s Chinese puzzle ball structure enthralled them. From the orangery plaza they could see layer upon layer of the world’s crust, each section carved in ornate detail, each level a new garden, palace, or water park. As the Doctor sat on the chasm’s edge, absently dangling his feet into the hundred foot drop below, the air cracked with the sickening sound of a gunshot. 

Servants and companions screamed, some running for the cover of the low branches of willow trees, others too terrified to move turned white and fell to the ground. The queen’s security personnel rushed the gunman, and two more shots rang out before the Doctor could get to his feet. In the chaos his eyes ran back and forth among the scattering crowd until he found Donna at the queen’s side. Using her body to shield the teenage monarch. Rage squeezed his stomach, spilling bile into his throat. Not again. Not this time. He would not allow it.

The Doctor stood and felt time slow around him. Scurrying people ran either side of him, their floating clothes billowing in their wake. Each step he took seemed slower than the last until at last he was close enough to the assassin to smell their sweat and hear Donna’s tight, frightened breath.

"Put the gun down." 

The Doctor’s cold voice silenced the terrified squeals of the courtiers and stilled the gunman’s wavering hand. A double barrelled pulse pistol brushed against Donna’s temple as she curled her body around the teenage queen, blocking a clear shot.

"Release the queen go, or die with her." The assassin was barely out of childhood, a lank-haired, twenty-something with work-worn skin and dead black eyes. They bore the look of a battle-weary soldier, born into a war they did not understand. Pitted hands, scared from long healed cuts clasped the pistol, broken nails digging into their own skin.

"She’s just a kid," Donna ground out past the fear in her throat. "She’s not old enough to have done anything!" 

The weapon pressed into Donna’s skull, its cold muzzle digging in to her skin.

"Let them go. Now." 

A dangerous shadow fell across the Doctor. Darkness rose in his eyes, a thick, impenetrable black that consumed every speck of light in his youthful, ancient face. He glanced and the unmoving bodies of the young queen’s bodyguards. 

"This is your only chance. I won’t let you hurt anyone else."

Donna pushed against the gun, tilting her head to look into the eyes of her captor. "Listen to him, please. For your own sake. No-one else needs to die here. Whatever your disagreement... we can help, if you just put the gun down."

There was a click as the weapon was primed. With a violent shove they thrust Donna and the queen against the orangery wall. Donna’s knees folded, and she pulled the girl to the floor with her, placing her own body in front of the child’s. 

"Amira Van Dijk, slave queen of Pairidaēza…" the assassin pressed the pistol hard against Donna’s face, aiming down through her jaw and into the queen’s golden hair, “You die without honour.”

The Doctor’s hand reached forward, sonic screwdriver extended and shining. There was a high pitched whistle and as the youth pulled the trigger the pistol backfired. Discharged energy blasted from the rear of the weapon, shattering the grip and thudding into the assassin’s heart. A scream ripped through the blast, piercing and pain filled. Courtiers scattered into the topiary hedges as smoke billowed from the place where their queen had stood. 

Donna woke in her bed in the TARDIS. Her vision swam and pain radiated from a bandaged patch around her ear. A yelp slipped from her lips and she struggled to rise. She felt a grip from behind her, strong hands grasping her shoulders, stabilising her unsteady movements. Blinking away tears she held onto the Doctor’s voice, a tight, rasping sound that she almost did not recognise.

"Donna. You’re okay. You’re safe."

"Doctor?" her own voice was thick and dry.

"I’m here," he whispered, releasing a shoulder to pass her a glass of water. He held the liquid to her lips as her fumbling fingers lurched to the glass.

He was behind her, sat in the corner of her oversized bed that butted up to the wall. It was a sanctuary of pillows that Donna used for meditation or reading, the place furthest from the door but with a view over the entire room. His companion tried to turn but wobbled and he steadied her once more.

"Your inner ear ruptured," he told her, keeping his voice quiet and steady. "It will heal in a day or two with treatment, but your balance will be shaky until then."

"I can’t see," Donna rubbed her eyes with the heel of her hand. "And my face is burning."

"Give it a few more minutes. I applied ointment to your eyes just before you woke. Your skin is scorched, but I'm treating that too. It will take a little longer to heal. You caught more of the blast than I hoped."

His hand slipped from her shoulder to the centre of her back, rubbing the edge of one shoulder blade with his thumb in a gentle, calming motion. 

"The queen?" Donna asked, "Amira?"

There was a harrumph of displeasure. "Unharmed; physically. She won’t be queen of the slave mines for much longer though. I’ve made sure of that."

A veiled threat hung in his voice and Donna did not ask what he had done. 

"She’s just a kid." Donna told him.

"Sixteen," he agreed, "Too young to be queen. I told her I’d be back in two years. I hope she’ll do the right thing."

Donna eased herself round, fighting the soft bed beneath her and the swimming inside her skull. The Doctor placed an oversized cushion behind her and she leant back against the bed-head with a sigh. Her unfocused eyes found the outline of the Doctor, his blue shirt and pale face visible in a reverse silhouette against the dark of the cushions behind him. Even without 20/20 vision Donna could make out the slump of his shoulders and the black holes that passed for eyes.

"Did you carry me back here?" Donna asked. She remembered nothing after the sound of the pulse gun discharging.

His ghostlike head bobbed. "You're not that heavy."

Donna snorted, "Word of advice there, Doctor. Never combine the words 'that' and 'heavy' when talking about a woman."

When he did not respond to her jibe, concern overtook Donna’s sensations of pain. 

"How long have I been unconscious?"

"Forty-six hours, give or take." 

Her jaw dropped a fraction, "Have you been sat there all this time?"

"Most of it."

"You sat and watched me sleep for two days?" Donna enunciated every word.

His outline shrugged, "I had to keep you safe."

The Doctor's quiet, monosyllabic responses made her stomach knot.

"You stupid Martian," Donna scolded, "Of course I was safe, I was with you."

His voice was a hoarse whisper, "Most dangerous place in the universe."

She reached a hand towards the outline of his face. "Are you okay?" 

"I’m always…" he broke off and pulled in a tight breath as her soft fingers caressed his cheek, fracturing his brittle defenses. "Donna… don’t…"

"Spaceman," she slid her hand behind his neck and felt rigor in his muscles. "It’s all right."

She felt his body become rigid. He pulled away, sniffing in another breath that did not reach the bottom of his lungs. She tightened her hold, denying his retreat.

"Please..." 

His plea caught Donna off-guard. She blinked harder, clearing most of the blur until she could see his damp, red eyes framed by a frowning, paper-white face. He swallowed, a hard lump in his throat choking off the words that formed on down-turned lips. Looking away he made a feeble attempt to free himself from Donna's grasp. Her hand slid into the soft hair at the back of his head, and her fingers smoothed disheveled locks. 

 

Donna felt his sob before the sound reached her ear. A gulped breath, the catch in his throat, and a sudden, uncontrollable exhale. She hesitated, one hand still smoothing his hair, the other reaching toward but not touching his arm. He scrubbed his face with a rough sleeve and tried to reinforce his shattering barricades.

"I'm sorry," he stuttered, clearing the emotion from his throat with a cough.

"Don't be daft," Donna took both of his hands in her own. 

"I thought I'd killed you," there was a quaver in his voice but he held steady. "When they pulled the trigger, I was afraid I would lose you."

His companion spoke in a hushed, gentle tone. "Like you lost Jenny?"

The Doctor nodded and his body jerked as he pushed back another wave of emotion. He sniffed again in the same shaking breath and pulled a hand from Donna’s grip to massage a phantom pain in his chest. 

"It feels like you can’t breathe," Donna continued. "The pain is so deep your whole body aches."

A strangled, bitter, laugh broke from his lips, "It’s not new to me. With Gallifrey gone… I should be used to this."

"Was Jenny like your other children?" she pressed on, her own heart hammering in her ears, afraid of doing more damage.

"So much," he replied, a twisted smile of pain and joy contorting his face. "And my granddaughter, Susan, she was as willful and eager. So determined."

"I can see the family resemblance," her thumb rocked across his knuckles.

"They’ve all gone, Donna. Everyone I loved. Gone and turned to dust." His head bowed, and he pressed the palm of his hand against chewed lips, smothering his own voice. 

"The curse of the Time Lord," Donna whispered and received a tiny nod in reply.

With a slow, easy movement Donna wrapped her arms around his shrunken body and guided him to her, expecting rejection and leaving space for his escape. Instead the Doctor looped his gangly arms around her and rested his head against her shoulder. Donna felt the Time Lord relax little by little until his breathing was soft and tinged with exhaustion. 

"When did you last sleep?" she muttered into his ear. "Before Jenny?"

"Before Pompeii," the admission followed by the usual line, "But I don’t need as much sleep as humans."

Donna ran her fingers through his hair, "You need sleep now."

His head lifted, and he drew away, "No, I’m fine."

"Don’t be ridiculous," she said, moving over to make space beside her. "One time offer Spaceman. I may be the only companion you ever have that wants you to sleep beside her, not sleep with her."

A fleeting smile crossed his lips, and he loosened his tie until it fell away in his hands and he tossed it to the floor. With careful movements he slid down the bed until his head was on the pillow and Donna lowered herself to the same position, wincing as the shift from vertical to horizontal awoke a wave of vertigo. 

The Doctor slid his arm under Donna, drawing her into his body until her head rested on his chest. Her hand lay across his stomach and he cocooned her with his arms, his body relaxing in the knowledge she was safe at his side. It felt like the most natural position in the world and within a few minutes they both drifted into dreamless sleep.


End file.
